The Manor On Bell Avenue
by CodeVassie
Summary: Matthew and his brother live in a manor on Bell Avenue. Since their deaths decades ago they have been alone in the manor, bound to the ancient building and never able to leave, but will the appearance of their most recent visitors turn their curse into something more, or will some more unwanted visitors throw it all into something Matthew never expected in death? [HIATUS]
1. Chapter 1

"Seriously? This is what we're doing with our Saturday night?" A loud voice rang into the night in an attempted whisper.

"I must agree, _mon ami_. Why are we here?" Another voice asked, indifferent to whispering, yet still not as loud as the first one.

"Come on! This will be fun! Haven't you guys ever been to a haunted house?" A third voice chipped in.

"At a fair? Yes. Breaking into an abandoned house where no one can hear us if we are attacked by a bloodthirsty murderer? No and neither would I like to." The second voice spoke again, "Let's just go back to my house and watch some television."

"Wait, wait." The first voice interjected again, "We're breaking in?"

" _Si_. How else do you expect us to get in?" Came the reply of the third voice.

"Gil, you are not seriously-"

"Let's do it!"

"Gilbert!"

"Yes!" The third voice exclaimed, "Come on, Francis! Gil's in!"

"Ugh. Fine. But, just so you know, if we get brutally murdered or find a dead body, I _will_ say I told you so."

"Point taken." The louder voice said, "Now, let's go in."

-/-

"Yep. This place definitely looks haunted." The voice echoed throughout the house so clearly that Matthew could hear it from one of the back rooms upstairs. Usually from here Matthew could only hear the murmurs of those who entered the house, but these visitors didn't seem shy in the least.

"Uh oh." Matthew murmured to himself as he stood from the uncomfortable high-backed armchair where he had been sitting. Where there were visitors, there would surely be Alfred.

Matthew walked into the hallway just in time for a gust of wind to burst past him. "Alfred!" He hissed as his brother flew by. There was no stopping Alfred now. Matthew had tried too many times in the past and knew that when his brother was granted this opportunity to ease his boredom, nothing could stop him from taking it.

Matthew looked down the empty hall his brother had disappeared down and followed after, slightly curious of what Alfred would do this time. He stopped behind a banister by the grand staircase to obstruct him from the view of the people in the main entryway. He looked around, wondering where Alfred could have gone.

"Al?" He whispered, hoping his brother would hear him. There was no indication Alfred had heard, but there was of someone else.

"Did you hear that?" A whispered voice carried up the stairs.

"What? You hear something, Antonio?" A much louder voice asked.

Matthew cursed himself. He was only contributing to Alfred's nonsense now. He shook his head only to catch sight of his brother on the other side of the grand staircase. He caught his eye and the other gave him an excited smile. He placed one finger to his lips then started to float up up up until he was touching the ceiling far above. Matthew wondered how the intruders hadn't caught sight of him yet, then realized his brother must have turned invisible.

Matthew suddenly became very curious and peered around the banister to spy on the strangers below. There were three of them. One had shoulder length blonde hair and was carefully avoiding the dust that covered the hand rails as the three ascended the steps. Another had darker hair and looked both excited and frightened to be in the house at the same time. Matthew didn't blame him; the house sometimes gave him the creeps too. The last boy had shockingly white hair and a smug grin across his face. Matthew wondered how the boy could be so comfortable with breaking into a house that had been abandoned for almost twenty years.

Matthew found himself watching them, more specifically this boy with the odd hair and the comfortable attitude, until the boy locked eyes with him. Matthew only had time to note the very red coloring of his eyes before he noticed the boy was actually looking right at him.

Matthew gasped, panicked (just a little bit), and disappeared (or maybe a little more than 'just a little'), leaving the boy with wide eyes and a shocked face. "Wh- did you guys see that?"

"What?" The boy named Antonio asked, sounding startled by his friend's tone.

"There was a boy there! Right there! And he just disappeared!"

"What!" Came another frightened exclamation from the boy.

"Gilbert," The other boy spoke, "Do not try to scare us with such weak fabrications. We see right through them."

"What? But I wasn't lying!"

That's when the first of the crystals dropped on them. One precisely on each of their unknowing heads. They all three looked up, but couldn't see anything there. Matthew could see what was happening, though- or, more specifically, _who_ was doing it.

The guy named Gilbert kneeled down and picked one of the crystals up. "Are these from the chandelier?"

"It must be a very old chandelier." The blonde said. Then three more plunked down, only one hitting Antonio on the head.

"We should get out of here..." The boy said nervously.

"What?" Gilbert argued, "You were the one who said we should come!"

More crystals. "I don't like this place." Came the reply.

Then, it was as if someone had shaken the whole chandelier, knocking dozens of crystals off of their secure places along its iron edges. Matthew watched as the three looked up, realizing what was happening and panicking. They ran out of the way as torrents of the bullet-like crystals rained down. Matthew was momentarily worried that the crystals would hurt them until the three yanked open the door they had broken open, and fled out into the normal world.

Matthew caught a brief glance of the night sky and dark trees just before the red-eyed boy named Gilbert slammed back closed the massive door, obstructing his sight of the outside world. He sighed.

The next moment, Alfred was beside him, grinning and Matthew didn't hesitate to swat his shoulder.

"Ow!" Alfred held his arm, "What was that for?"

"You know what!" He whispered, scolding his brother for his recklessness.

Alfred looked down and pouted a bit, causing Matthew to feel bad. They hadn't had anyone come here in ages. It wasn't his brother's fault he got bored so easily here and Matthew could certainly relate. At least this way Alfred wasn't sleeping in a dusty corner or chasing after the rodents of the house like he would usually be doing. Though, that last one could easily be compared to what he had just been doing anyway.

Matthew looked back to the wreckage of the crystals littering the wide entryway floor and smiled a little, unable to hide his amusement. Alfred laughed, realizing the tension had left the air. "Wasn't it funny, Mattie? They didn't even know what was happening!"

"Yeah." Matthew laughed along, "You really know how to cause your fair share of destruction."

"You could join in next time!" Alfred bumped his arm, "It'd be a lot more fun haunting the intruders with your help!"

Matthew laughed at the wording of his brother's sentence. " _Haunting_. Whoever thought it would become such a casual thing in our lives?"

He laughed again at the wording of his own sentence, but this time with less enthusiasm. "Lives" probably wasn't the best word for it. Matthew looked down. "But, you know I can't, Al."

"Aw, sure you can! Have a little fun, man. Don't let something like that stop you!"

Matthew looked at his brother in doubt. Alfred still had on a huge smile from the excitement and fun he had just had. _Fun_. Something they hadn't had in their lives in decades. _Excitement_. It was tempting to join his brother the next time someone came around, but he knew it just wouldn't be a good idea.

Then, Alfred's gaze shifted to the wide entry hall below them. His body had tensed and his gaze had locked onto something down there. Matthew knew exactly what it must have been and felt his body still. They were both still invisible, but that wouldn't do them much good against what was lurking down there.

"Don't move." Alfred whispered, halting Matthew as he had begun to peek around to see. Instead, he stood there, watching his brother's gaze as it didn't leave what it was fixed on below.

A few minutes went by until Alfred gave the okay. "It's gone." His brother breathed and Matthew released a very visible breath of his own. He looked around and, just like Alfred had said, there was no trace of it among the crystals scattered across the floor beyond the staircase below.

"What was it doing?" Matthew turned back to Alfred and asked, not able to raise his voice above a whisper. It had been a long time since he had been comfortable talking at full volume in this house. It was too empty. He felt like any sound he made echoed into every crevice of the large house when he spoke.

"It was just down there, sniffing around."

"Around the chandelier wreckage?" Matthew asked and Alfred looked slightly guilty. Matthew just shook his head, not wanting to give in but also feeling sorry for blaming it on his brother. He let it go, continuing on. "What do you think it's looking for?"

"I don't know." Alfred replied, "I'm just hoping it doesn't find _us_."

* * *

 _So, I have a bajllion other fics I could/should be working on, but here comes this one here, giving me no choice but to obsess over it and finally publish its first chapter instead of, oh, I don't know, updating something else? Publish something else I've been working a lot longer at? Wow, I'm sounding bitter. But seriously, I love this story and I can't believe it just jumped my life like this. I'm really looking forward to hopefully continuing with it- I certainly have plenty of ideas for it already! Hope you liked it!_


	2. Chapter 2

Gilbert and his friends had gotten the hell away from that place as soon as they had escaped out the front door. They hadn't stopped running until they were back in the normal peace of their suburban town. As they came to a stop, the three were huffing and bending over, trying to catch their breath. As soon as they each started looking up and seeing that the others were doing the same, they all started to laugh- the laughter growing in intensity as the whole thing became more and more hysterical and their breaths becoming harder to take.

"We were almost-" Antonio gasped, "Crushed by a chandelier!"

No one else could speak, unable to talk through their laughing, but, as soon as they had calmed down, Gilbert spoke up. "That was awesome!"

As the three continued to laugh, they began to walk back to Francis' house to watch whatever happened to be on the television, which seemed to be MTV at the moment. Right then, Van Halen's new music video was playing.

"That was scary! We were almost impaled to death!" Antonio exclaimed as he leaned off the couch and stuck his hand into the Munchos bag on the coffee table.

"Ah, and I will take this as my cue," Francis said. "I told you so."

"When will you stop saying that, Francis?" Gilbert asked, annoyed that his friends wouldn't shut up about the whole thing. He was trying to pay attention to one of his favorite bands on the screen. "Now, isn't this guy crazy or what?"

They turned to watch as David Lee Roth once again popped onto the TV's screen, demonstrating one of the jumps the song's focus was on. The three laughed and lounged on the couch for a while until Francis' folks returned and Gilbert and Antonio headed home.

"Wanna hang at my place?" Gilbert asked as the two strolled down the dark street. It was nearly one in the morning, but Gilbert knew he himself could be up for another four hours at the least.

"No. I have church in the morning, so I should really get home." Antonio stopped on the pavement where the street to the right would take him home. Gilbert stopped too.

"Ugh, Toni. Why can't you just skip?" Gilbert whined, not wanting to go home to have to put up with his own folks for being out so late.

"I can't, Gil. Sorry." Antonio began down the street. "I'll see you at school on Monday!"

"Yeah, yeah." Gilbert waved and began to turn down his own street. Soon he was walking alone. Gilbert walked past house after uniformly suburban house. He laughed to himself once again over the thought of the three of them running away from that creepy manor. They must have looked ridiculous to anyone who happened to see. It wasn't as funny when alone though, and Gilbert felt his laughter trail off as he replayed the evening in his head.

Right before the crystals of the chandelier started dropping, he remembered it clearly, there had been someone standing behind a banister up the stairs watching them. It had been a boy around his own age and his image had burned itself into Gilbert's head. The boy'd had light hair and a loose curl that sprung away from his face. His eyes were an extremely vivid purple, yet there was still something about them that Gilbert couldn't quite put his finger on. There was something very still and careful about the look in the boy's eyes.

There was another thing he remembered about the boy too. It was how pale he looked, as if he hadn't left that house in years. It was almost unnatural how pale the boy looked, but, then again, he was one to talk, right? Gilbert was practically the palest person he knew.

Gilbert was still shocked how the boy could disappear like that, though. He had just been looking at him, then _poof_ , the boy had gone. Even if Gilbert had blinked or something, the boy shouldn't have been able to disappear so quickly!

Gilbert hadn't said anything more of it to his friends. They already thought he was lying anyway. It wasn't a completely unwarranted assumption by them. Tricking his friends to scare them was something Gilbert would have certainly done and he knew that if he really wanted them to believe him he could keep at it and convince them. The thing was, Gilbert kind of wanted to figure this one out on his own.

That's why tomorrow Gilbert planned on going back to the house during the daytime to check the place out for himself.

-/-

The next morning Gilbert found himself on Bell Avenue. Antonio was at church, Francis was probably sleeping in, and Gilbert was walking to the abandoned manor by himself, ready to find whoever it had been that he had seen in that house.

Gilbert stopped in front of the manor, noting how many places there must have been to hide in the large house. As he approached the doorway, he found that it was in fact still unlocked from when they had previously broken in and he let himself in. Gilbert made sure to close it securely behind him before he walked further into the house.

"Man…" He said to himself, taking in the view of the bare chandelier above and the crystal covered floor below. He was glad they had gotten out when they had, this could have definitely done some damage.

Now, how to find someone if they were hiding in a place like this? Gilbert decided to take the direct path. "Hello?" He shouted, hearing his voice echo about the place. When no one replied, Gilbert mumbled, "Damn."

Carefully avoiding tripping over the fragments that littered the floor, Gilbert made his way to the grand staircase, hoping to track whoever it might have been by looking in the last place he had seen them. When no clues were found by the banister, Gilbert wandered a bit more, going from room to room and asking aloud, "Hello? Anyone in here?"

Through all of his searching, though, not a soul could be found on that second floor. Gilbert had been about to try the first when something caught his attention.

" _Idiot_." Said a voice behind him. Gilbert spun on his heels to get a view of whoever it had been, but no one was there.

"Hello?" Gilbert asked and was responded to with a gasp. There was no denying now that someone was definitely there. "Hey, I heard you. Stop hiding."

" _You can hear me_?" The voice asked again and Gilbert looked around. Was it him or had that voice come from right in front of him?

"Um, yeah." Gilbert was still looking around for the source of the voice, but found nothing, "I heard you call me an idiot and might I say, rude."

" _Oh_ …" The voice replied, " _Sorry_ …"

"Where are you? Why don't you come out?" Gilbert was trying to get agitated at the soft, apologetic voice for insisting on staying hidden, but couldn't help only feeling confused.

" _Um, it's not quite that easy_ …" The voice spoke again, but was cut off when Gilbert gasped, startled.

"H-how did you do that?" Gilbert asked with wide eyes, both locked onto the now fully visible boy in front of him.

"How did I do-" The boy seemed confused until understanding dawned in his own eyes, "Wait, you can see me?"

Gilbert nodded. The boy in front of him was the same one he had seen the previous night. He had the same pale face and light hair and the same vivid purple eyes. Gilbert quickly got over his initial shock and started to formulate his own theory as to what was going on. "So, is this some kind of cool superpower? That is so awesome!"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about..." The boy looked alarmed at Gilbert's enthusiasm and slightly taken off guard.

"You can turn invisible! What else could it be? You have freaking superpowers!"

"U-um, no. You must be mistaken. Well, yes, I guess I do turn invisible, but it isn't because of anything like that!" The boy looked like he desperately wanted to turn back invisible to get away. "You should probably leave."

"What? But we just met! Don't tell me you're sick of me already!"

"What? No, no. I'm sorry. It's just, well, my brother likes to pick on people who enter the manor. He's never hurt anyone, last night was the first time something got so dangerous, but he never gets along with the living well…"

"The living?" Gilbert asked and the boy seemed to realize he had said something he wasn't supposed to as his eyes widened in alarm. "Wait, so you mean you're dead?"

The other nodded silently.

Then Gilbert started to laugh. "That is awesome!" The boy looked strangely at him but Gilbert was used to those kind of stares; most people thought he was a little bit off his rocker, "I'm Gilbert, by the way." He held out his hand for the other which was accepted only to have his hand passed right through with the other's.

"Matthew." The other said quietly, looking slightly embarrassed at the attempted handshake.

Gilbert just laughed again. "So you're like a ghost or something?"

"And you don't seem phased by it at all."

"That's my own superpower at work." Gilbert winked and Matthew raised his eyebrows.

"And what would that be?"

"Accepting the abnormal and supernatural."

"You just made that up, didn't you? I suppose you come across the supernatural everyday?"

"Indeed, I do! I'm an expert on all things supernatural! Why would I make up such a thing?" Gilbert feigned offense then waved his hand as if resigning from his previous statement, "Well, not everyone can have the awesome power of turning invisible!"

Matthew rolled his eyes and Gilbert was drawn again to the violet color of them. "Anyway," The ghost Matthew said, " You should probably get out of here if you don't want to become the subject of Alfred's amusement. I'm surprised you haven't woken him up already with all your yelling."

"Is that the brother you mentioned? Is he a ghost too?"

Matthew nodded matter-of-factly.

"Ah, so he's the shit that was dropping that chandelier on us last night." Gilbert motioned to the crystals all over the floor below.

"Sorry about that." Matthew sounded sincerely apologetic as he looked to where Gilbert was motioning, "Al gets bored just hanging around here all the time."

"You guys can't leave? Is it like a vampire thing? You can't go out into the sun?"

Matthew laughed and Gilbert was taken off guard. "No. We aren't vampires. Vampires don't even exist!"

"Some people say the same about ghosts." Gilbert pointed out.

Matthew paused and seemed to take in Gilbert for the first time since they had met. "Valid point."

"So, Matthew, you have any other ghosty powers I should know about?"

Suddenly Matthew seemed to close into himself. He looked nervous when he said, "No…"

Gilbert wasn't sure what that was about, but, then again, he had just met the guy.

"You should go. Alfred won't stay asleep for much longer. We ghosts don't need to sleep so it's difficult to stay unconscious for long."

Matthew moved down the stairs and Gilbert followed him. Just as Gilbert was about to open the door he paused and turned back. "Can I come back? I mean, you seem like a pretty cool guy and, you're right, I can imagine it gets pretty boring here…"

But he trailed off as he watched Matthew start to shake his head.

"I don't think that would be a good idea. Like I said, Al doesn't get along with the living very well. It's not that he doesn't like you guys. He just doesn't know what else to do when someone shows up."

Gilbert nodded and silently opened the door, noticing how Matthew's eyes roamed the outside world as if he had not seen it in decades. Then, Gilbert realized that this was probably exactly why his eyes roamed so avidly. Gilbert took his time before finally closing the door, seeing the last look of disappointment flash across Matthew's face as his view was obscured and he was locked once again in the manor.

Gilbert felt for this ghost boy. Matthew hadn't been outside for a long time, he could bet on that. How long ago had he died? How long had they been trapped in that house?

Gilbert had almost accepted his fate, to never come back to that manor ever again, but one thing had changed his mind. That look that had been on Matthew's face as he had seen the outside for the first time in so long and as he was shut once again in the manor. Now Gilbert's mind was set and nothing could change it.

Gilbert would be going back to the manor again and it would be very soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Matthew was left facing the closed-door and desperately wishing he could follow the stranger out. It had been too long since he had left this manor. He had barely been allowed to leave it when he had been alive and now he was forever locked in permanently. Now there was no chance for him to sneak out and avoid his duties. Not that he really had any duties now-a-days, but still.

Matthew had been telling the truth when he had told Gilbert that it would be best if he would stay away. This didn't stop the tiny spark in his chest from its steady hope that he would return anyway. It would be a bad idea, though -the worst idea. Alfred wasn't the only one in the manor that didn't get along well with living people after all...

Matthew felt uneasy for a moment and scanned the dark corners of the room, swearing he had felt something watching him. It wouldn't have been the first time he had been stuck alone with one of them, but it had been a terrible experience that he never wished to repeat. Matthew was more than relieved when he didn't find anything lurking in the murky corners.

"Mattie!" A gust of wind shot down the stairs and Matthew was glad he had gotten rid of Gilbert when he had. "Have you seen anyone? I could have _sworn_ I heard someone!"

"No, Al. Why would someone be here, especially at this time of day? You know the locals only enjoy coming here after dark." Matthew pretended to find his brother's notion ridiculous instead of marveling at how well Alfred could hear. Then again, Gilbert _had_ been shouting throughout the house like a wild banshee.

"I know. But wouldn't it have been cool? Visitors! Two days in a row!"

"And also very implausible."

"You enjoy crushing my dreams, don't you?" Alfred pouted.

Matthew laughed. "Dream all you want, Al. There's not much else we can do here."

A noise interrupted them then and Matthew's laughter died. The noise sounded odd, like something between a gurgle and a hiss and it came from around the stairs. Alfred immediately whipped around, but Matthew could already see it perfectly. Hidden in the shadows of the grand staircase it appeared just enough for Matthew to see its glowing yellow eyes.

Neither of them moved. They knew by now what a terrible idea it would be. After what felt forever of silence and stillness Matthew realized the thing didn't have any motivation to move away. They were caught in a staring match and neither side had the intention of giving up.

Finally, Matthew gave in and whispered to his brother, "What do we do now?" This had never happened. Usually the creatures would be occupied with something else and, by now, would have disappeared. It was odd that it was just standing there- not blinking and its attention fully on them.

As Matthew hissed out the question to his brother, though, the bright yellow eyes darted to stare directly at him. Suddenly Matthew felt as if his eyes were glued to the creature's own. He could not turn away and he could not see what was to happen next.

Then, the creature stepped a foot out of the shadow. It was large and clawed and seemed to be coming right toward him. Before Matthew could fully comprehended that the creature had moved at all, it had lunged itself out of its hiding and knocked him to the ground, not hindered in the least by his transparent, ghostly form.

Matthew screamed and tried to throw the creature off. He was aware of his brother on the other side, pulling and hitting at it and, somehow, it finally released its large claw from his shoulder. When Matthew looked up again he realized he was in the backroom him and Alfred usually spent most of their time. Alfred must have brought him here and he hadn't even noticed. It was not a surprise with how fast Alfred was, yet Matthew was still in shock they had gotten away so quickly.

"Matthew! Matthew, are you alright?" Alfred was shaking him by the shoulders, trying to get him to respond, but only proving in making him see stars. He didn't even know that kind of thing could still happen since he'd died.

"Alfred!" Matthew gasped, attempting to let the other know he was okay so he would stop shaking him, but Alfred let out a gasp of his own.

"Mattie, you're hurt!" Matthew thought his brother had lost his mind. They were dead. They couldn't get hurt. But then his shoulder erupted in pain, his vision flashed, and he was proven terribly wrong. Matthew started to breathe heavily and closed his eyes from the sudden pain. It had been a very long time since he had felt such a sensation.

As soon as he had shaken his distress away, though, he scanned his arm. Sure enough, there was a large gash running across it. It wasn't like a normal human cut, though. This wound was pearlescent, a contrast against his dull pale complexion. It seemed to dance across his shoulder, sending sharp shoots of agony whenever it moved.

"What do I do, Mattie? What do I do?" Alfred was panicking. Matthew hadn't seen him like this since they were still human -since the day Matthew forbid himself to think of. Matthew wanted to help him, but, just like before, he couldn't. He shook his head, his face distraught.

That's when he noticed the numbing in his shoulder and peered down to see the glow grow dimmer. He was quick to knock on his brother's arm and show him the new development. Matthew was relieved and he assured Alfred that it would be alright. Unlike that day, though, he wasn't lying this time.

Alfred wasn't convinced, though, and demanded that Matthew rest. When Matthew regarded him as if he had gone nuts, his brother's resolve only hardened and Matthew was forced into finding somewhere else to rest. He wasn't staying there; he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep there if he could actually sleep at all, so Matthew left his worrying brother for a calmer environment.

As Matthew continued walking across the manor, trying to find a nice place to lie down and attempt to rest his mind, if not his ghostly body, he carried one new discovery with him. He knew his brother must have been thinking it as well and Matthew was scared that neither of them had wanted to say it aloud.

He was certain though. Whatever these creatures were, they wouldn't stop short of killing those who were already dead.

-/-

Matthew was more tired than he had originally thought which is dangerous for a ghost for one simple reason: the dead don't get tired. He had forgotten what it was like after all those years and he found that it was much more draining than he remembered. After all these years of yearning for a little of his humanness to come back, this fatigued state had not been at all what he had been hoping for.

Matthew hadn't planned on actually falling asleep, Al was more the one who passed the time like that, but when Matthew discovered that he was far too shaken to control his powers enough to lift his book, there wasn't anything else Matthew could think of to do. He definitely wasn't going to go ask Alfred to open the book for him, though he regularly did. He was just too exhausted at the moment to care. What an odd feeling. He had forgotten how weak being human felt.

Matthew lay on the floor to sleep, long knowing that laying on a bed caused him to phase right through, and, as soon as he hit the ground, he washed into the blissful darkness of his unconscious mind.

 _"Mattie, why do you think we never get to go anywhere?"_

 _"Well, I suppose they don't want you wandering off on your own. You are their only son after all."_

 _"But it's not fair!"_

 _"..."_

 _"You wanna know a secret?"_

 _"..."_

 _"I sometimes sneak out on my own..."_

Matthew bolted upright, panting and fear pumping through his body. No, not this. Why did it always have to be this? Those words, that day, why did he always have to remember?

Matthew shook his head. He wanted it to go away. He didn't want to think about it anymore. It was in the past and he didn't have to wonder about it anymore. Matthew wished those words would just leave him alone.

"Hey, stop that!" A yell sounded down the hall and Matthew was alerted out of his thoughts. That wasn't his brother's voice...

Another crash and a yell sounded yet again and Matthew dashed to it, having no clue what the raucous was about, but planning on finding out. As he made it to the room down the hall where all the noise seemed to be coming from, it all started to make sense.

"Gilbert?" Matthew asked, bewildered at the man running about, trying to avoid being hit with various objects, "Alfred, what are you doing?"

But his brother had already stopped flinging said various items. "Mattie, you know this guy?"

"Matthew! Thank goodness! Your loon of a brother keeps throwing shit at me!" Gilbert glanced about the room and Matthew realized that he couldn't see Alfred.

"Al, it's okay. Just stop throwing things and we'll get this all sorted out."

"Wait, but how do you know this guy?" Alfred asked, confusion etched across his face.

Suddenly, Gilbert screamed, "Ha!" And chucked one of the books that had landed on the floor by him directly at Alfred. Alfred didn't blink an eye as the object passed right through him, but was excited none-the-less at the attack.

"Hey! Cheap shot!" He went for another book of his own, but before he could throw it Matthew swatted his arm away.

"Cheap shot? You've been throwing books at me while invisible!" Gilbert exclaimed resulting in some grumbling from Alfred.

"Guys! Stop arguing and stop throwing stuff around! You're going to make me develop some weird ghost-headache and that's one human trait I'd much like to leave behind."

Grumbling could now be heard from both of the other occupants in the room. "Okay, now, Alfred, this is Gilbert. Um, human…" Matthew thought a bit, "That's all I really know about him. Gilbert, this is Alfred, brother, ghost, dumbass."

"Hey!" But Matthew ignored his brother's protests.

"Al, why don't you go chase around the mice for a bit. I'll show our guest out."

"But Matthew! I never get to play with the guests!" Matthew shook his head at how childish and immature his brother sounded.

"Alfred, please?"

Then Alfred looked between him and Gilbert. "How do I know we can trust him?"

"Al, we're ghosts. It's not as if we can die."

His brother didn't look very convinced, though, and, after the previous day, Matthew couldn't blame him. Eventually, he said, "Alright, but just because I'm being nice today." He swung around to looked at Gilbert then, "But, if Matthew's not back in five minutes, I'm coming down to throw some more shit around."

Gilbert nodded seriously. "Duly noted."

A gust of wind cued Alfred's exit and Gilbert looked around as if he had missed something. "Did he turn invisible again?"

"No, he's gone." Matthew shrugged then turned to give the other a half amused look, half 'are you crazy' look, "I told you not to come back here. Do you just enjoy being tormented by ghosts in your spare time?"

Gilbert smirked. "What can I say? It's a hobby."

"Or a superpower?" Matthew mirrored his smirk and Gilbert's grew into a smile.

"So, how ya been? Long time no see."

Matthew froze for a second, wondering… "How long…?"

"How long? You mean yesterday? When we first met…?"

Matthew let out an exhale of relief. He didn't need to breathe, actually, but old habits died hard, especially when they kept you alive day after day until your eventual and untimely death.

It was easy to lose track of time when stuck in that manor. Years had been mere minutes before and seconds had ticked away like months. Their eternal afterlife dragged on and time felt irrelevant.

Matthew led Gilbert down the hallway, wondering what it could be that was keeping him so quiet as they walked. "So, why did you come here?"

Gilbert seemed surprised at the sudden words that filled the air. "Oh, well," He scratched the back of his neck which Matthew found a little odd, "I don't know, I guess."

"I guess your hobby really _is_ getting tormented by ghosts." Matthew laughed and Gilbert did as well. When they reached the door, Gilbert seemed eager to open it and Matthew felt both hurt and confused. Why had he come if he was so eager to leave? Had it been something Matthew had done?

Then his attention was grasped by the brightness of the world outside. The leaves of the trees were bright green and the sun's rays were visible in what looked to be a warm afternoon. Matthew remembered how the sun had felt on his skin all those years ago and he missed it. He missed feeling heat or even cold for that matter. He missed being human.

Matthew hadn't realized that Gilbert had sat right down until the other was waving his arm around trying to grab his attention. "Earth to Matthew! You still there?"

"Oh, um, yeah. Sorry." He then looked down confusedly at the human boy who was sitting right on the threshold of the door, "What are you doing?"

"I'm sitting. What, do ghosts not sit?"

Matthew sat himself down to prove his obvious point, feeling the light push of the invisible force that kept him from crossing the threshold like Gilbert did. Instead, Matthew sat criss-cross next to, but a few inches back from where Gilbert was sitting.

"Man, it's freezing out here."

"Really?" Matthew asked, looking again outside. It really looked warm to him, but he guessed things weren't always how they looked.

"Yeah." Gilbert rubbed his arms. "Is that another ghost thing? You can't feel the temperature?"

"Yeah, you'll find that ghosts are a lot different from humans."

"But you were once humans, weren't you? You just died and became ghosts, right?"

Matthew shifted. He didn't particularly want to talk about death with this near stranger next to him. "We were human." Matthew nodded.

Gilbert grabbed his backpack and started to shuffle around through it. Matthew hadn't even realized he'd had it. "Well, if you were alive at some point in the past, then I bet you'd appreciate this." Suddenly he pulled what looked like a plastic brick from the bag and brandished it to him.

"What's that?" Matthew asked, unimpressed.

"Well, it's a _Walkman_ , of course!" When Matthew continued to give him a blank stare, Gilbert grinned, "Here. I'll show you!"

Gilbert dug in his bag a bit more until he'd retracted some sort of weird-looking ear muffs with strings attached to each side. Matthew watched as he pushes the far end of the cord into the plastic box then push in on one of the buttons along its top.

"What does it do?" Matthew asked, getting that it wasn't just some weird object.

"Here, put these on." Gilbert handed him the earmuffs and, instinctually, Matthew reached out to grab them.

"Oh, wait!" Matthew said, remembering just as Gilbert let go and they passed right through his hand clattering to the floor. "Sorry…"

Gilbert just laughed though. "I keep forgetting about that! Don't worry about it; it'll take more than that to break my trusty headphones!" He then picked up the dropped headphones, scooted closer to Matthew, and shrugged. "I'll just hold them for you."

Gilbert raised the headphones and paused a second, as if waiting for Matthew's reaction. Then he slipped the headphones over Matthew's head and Matthew immediately started to hear sound that hadn't been there before. Noise was coming out of the headphones.

"How is it doing that?" Matthew asked, his voice rising instinctually so he could hear himself over the music, "Is it some sort of phonograph?"

Gilbert shrugged and Matthew suddenly became very aware of how close he had become. He was right in front of him, hands on either side of his head holding the headphones up. Suddenly, Matthew felt as if he had reacquired the human trait of temperature and knew if he still had blood it would be going directly to his face. Matthew's ghostly body became still as he looked up into Gilbert's gaze.

"What is this song?" He asked desperately, trying to come up with something -anything- to say.

Gilbert just shrugged. "It's a mixtape. I don't know where you're at on it."

"It can play anything?"

"Not anything. Just the songs you put on it. I just can't remember everything that's on there."

Matthew felt like he should nod, but, under the circumstances, he couldn't find it in himself to move. Finally, Gilbert moved instead, lifting the headphones from Matthew's transparent head.

Gilbert quickly checked the song by pressing one side of the headphones to his ear. "Ah, Van Halen."

"Van Halen…" Matthew mused, "Music has really changed, hasn't it? I suppose everything's probably changed."

"I guess it kind of depends, but yeah." Matthew knew that he was referring to however long he had been dead and Matthew was thankful he was polite enough not to ask.

"This house is pretty old, isn't it?" Gilbert commented, leaning back on his hands.

Matthew nodded. "Yeah, my mom told me the history behind it, but I don't remember when she said it was originally built."

"It's got history?"

"Yeah. A house this old has to have something or another that's happened to it. Pretty much there's just a bunch of tradition in it, though. The most exciting thing to happen in this place was probably-"

"What is it?" Gilbert asked, wondering.

"Nothing. Never mind." Matthew looked at the ground, shocked he had almost spoken of that day. He hated it. Why was he always reminded of it? He felt that Gilbert still had more to say, but Matthew was saved by the sudden thud and flutter of a book hitting the floor right beside them.

"You're still here! Great, I'll have something to do!" Alfred exclaimed from above.

"Alfred!" Matthew stood and shouted at his brother who had a wide grin on his face.

"A deal's a deal, Mattie. Five minutes up and I get to throw things, fair and square!"

Matthew turned to Gilbert. "You should get out of here." Gilbert scrambled to his feet, gathering his Walkman and headphones and backing out of the door. He paused for a second just as a candle stick flew his way. He yelled and dodged.

"Okay, see ya!" And Gilbert ran off, leaving the door wide open. Matthew looked after him until he finally turned to his brother.

" _Really_ , Alfred?"

Alfred just shrugged. "Notice he left the door open?"

Matthew's eyes widened. "Crap."

Alfred chuckled and asked, "What do we do with it now?"

Matthew turned to examine the door in question and sighed. "I guess there's nothing to do. We can't touch it. We'll have to leave it there." For a second, Matthew grew excited. He would get to see outside without a barrier like a window until it was closed. But the second passed quickly. The ajar door meant unwanted visitors like bugs, rats, humans. What really concerned Matthew though was how the creatures would take it.

Matthew's excitement suddenly dissipated. He had a terrible feeling about this.

* * *

 _It's been pretty long since I updated this story and I'm really sorry, guys! My life's been kind of busy, but these longer updates in no way mean I am any less excited for this story. If anything, it's probably made me more excited because I keep randomly thinking about it and adding more things to my plans. Anyway, yada yada, author's notes..._

 _Thank you everyone who has viewed, followed, favorited, and reviewed! You guys are the best and never stop being the awesome you! Now I'm sounding like Gilbert... Haha. But seriously._


	4. Chapter 4

Gilbert got out of that manor as quickly as he could after Alfred started to throw things again. He wasn't very fond of taking books to the face or heavy paper weights to the head. He wasn't aware that he had left the front door open, only just the passing of the overgrown greenery of the manor's gardens and old stone structures dotting the grounds, supposedly used to decorate but looking crumbled in their aging states.

Gilbert didn't run for long, only just long enough that he felt he was safe and out of reach of the loud ghost's far reaching throw. He was out of sight of the occupants in the house, but still in the gardens of the large manor. There was no need to run anymore and Gilbert found himself looking around the overgrowth of the unkempt gardens. Bushes grew whichever way and weeds sprouted in the oddest places. The grass needed a serious trim and the hedges that surrounded the area no longer even looked like hedges. Gilbert remembered seeing a statue or two as he had run past, but the only stone structure in sight now was a large fountain that seemed like it would have been a beautiful sight when it was working water over its edges, but now looked worn down and dirty.

Gilbert looked ahead, seeing he was nearing the wrought iron gate that would release him from the manor's hold. Instead of walking towards it, though, he turned and strode his way to the ancient fountain. Upon arriving to his decided destination, Gilbert stopped before the stone fountain, looking it over again now that he was closer. It was completely dry. Not a speck of water, even from the rain lay at its basin. Gilbert sat on its edge, deciding that he didn't need to be home anytime soon anyway.

That's when he saw it. From the corner of his vision, something caught his eye and he looked twice back over before he saw it. It was a stone. A simple rock lay at the bottom of the fountain. It looked smooth, like it had been lapped over with water for a good part of its life instead of having experienced the uneven erosion it would have where it sat now. That's odd. What would a rock looking like that be doing there?

Gilbert hoisted himself up from his new sitting position. He wasn't one for staying still anyway. He shuffled around the fountain, end goal: to retrieve that rock. He stopped in front of the other side of the fountain and tested one knee on its edge to be able to lean down for his prize.

When he gripped it in his hand he straightened up, smiled, and threw the object into the air to catch it. When it landed back in his palm, as he snatched it out of the air, it fit perfectly in the center of his hand. Then, like a shockwave, as the stone made contact with his skin, his eyes couldn't see what surrounded him anymore. His vision was not black. No, images filled his vision, first coming to him in black and white then focusing and filling with in color.

-/-

 _He was walking in the forest. The man was used walking. Wherever. Whenever. Walking was what he had been doing for hundreds of years. His worn tennis shoes adorning his feet proved it. He had only gotten those shoes a year ago._

 _This man had a bored expression on his face. His hair was straight except for the tiniest curl that poked out towards the nape of his neck. He wore simple clothing: an old shirt, jeans, tennis shoes. The articles were all clean yet very shabby, as if it was the only set he owned._

 _As color spread into view it was shown that the man had a ghostly complexion - not as transparent as some real ghosts Gilbert had met, but the solid white of a pale human. His hair was a soft blonde and his eyes a dark blue. In the sun that shined through the trees above, a metal cross shined momentarily, showing the gleaming hair clip the man wore to pin back the hair that would have no doubt fallen into his eyes._

 _The man continued to walk until he reached the edge of the woods. Stepping out, he looked around only to realize he was not in the place he had been aiming to arrive. With narrowed eyes, the man scanned his surroundings._

 _The gardens around him were very green, though it looked like it had been years since anyone had taken any care for it. Flowers sprouted where they pleased and there was a fountain to his left. This place almost felt… familiar._

 _It wouldn't hurt to explore around would it? The man paused. It probably would hurt. Fate hates those who think they know things. Fate especially hated him._

 _Either way, though, he was lost. He had to figure out where he was. According to his map, town should have been close. Would it be wise to go back in the woods and follow his original trail or go further into these gardens and hope he found something? There would probably be a road somewhere further this way…_

 _Nonsense, he'll just use his magic. A simple tracking charm will drain him a bit but, in the end, not being lost was worth it._

 _A few words in his native tongue did the trick. He was skilled in traditional Norwegian magic, though he could do other types if the need called for it. That need hadn't arisen in, oh, a hundred and fifty years, was it? He was probably rusty, but never mind that. He most likely wouldn't need it anytime soon._

 _And, like that, the man's direction was clear. Nothing led him and no glowing path alit to show him the way. It was as if his feet just knew where to take him and he let them. Soon he was walking through the gardens with doubt etching into his brain. For some reason it felt as if he was approaching danger. He had learned to trust this instinct throughout the years. Not even his magic was always reliable. Yet he followed his feet anyway. This was the way he had to go; he just needed to keep his eyes out for trouble._

 _He passed the large fountain he had seen before and continued until he saw a large gate, black rusty iron rods fixed in brick columns. His feet didn't lead him to this exit, though. Instead, he passed the gate and continued into the grounds. He hadn't gone very far before he saw the silhouette of a person._

 _Now, this man was very cautious. He'd had years to hone this sense and listened to it in whatever trouble he might have encountered. When a single person appeared in an altogether seemingly abandoned… somewhere, he still wasn't sure exactly... anyone would be on the wary side. He was fully prepared to fight or flight as he saw this other person strolling through the overgrown grass, spotting something in the dirt by a squat-looking bush and bending down to pick it up._

 _For the first time in the man's life, though, caution was thrown into the wind. When the man saw the face of this other something clicked and the man's desperate heart was not prepared as every defense in his body, his magic, his mind, shut down._

 _This other person, he was around his own physical age, maybe a little younger, but that was how the man saw all of them. Happy and curious eyes connected with his dull yet bordering on shock-filled ones. Wild, spiky hair and a wide smile and an unreal yet unmistakable face. It was him…_

 _"Oh, hi! I didn't expect to run into anyone here!" The other greeted and stood from his place where he knelt. The man was still in shock, though, and refused to say anything in return. He was still looking over the other, not believing his eyes. It was impossible. After all these years he had started to believe it was truly impossible…_

 _"W-who are you?" The man asked. That was odd; he never stuttered. He watched the man with wide eyes, the shock was starting to dim and, replacing it was another look, one almost of fear._

 _"Um…" The other seemed put off by how startled the man was, "Matthias. And you?"_

 _The man didn't answer him. Hope was finally starting to fill his chest and the fear was leaking away from his eyes. He was here… It wasn't impossible!_

 _Then the man's attention was stolen away by the figetting of the other's hands. There was something there he was playing around with. Perhaps it was whatever he had found in the dirt just before? It was small and ordinary…_

No _. The man stilled once again, shock settling in once more. Disbelief swallowed him. Fear swirled in his mind. Anger stabbed his chest. He hadn't felt so much emotion since… he had long forgotten. These emotions felt foreign though and that was enough to tell him that it had been much too long to have all these feelings consuming him at once._

 _The object in the other's hand was a small rock - smooth, grey, deadly. Not in the traditional sense; it certainly wasn't sharp or particularly heavy. The man knew better, though._

 _He stepped forward, desperate to get it away from the other._ Please no _. His mind screamed at him._ Anyone but this one _. He snatched the stone away to the other's surprise and wretchedly pitched it across the yard, hearing the dull clack of stone hitting stone. He didn't care where it went; he just prayed that he had gotten it away in time. That it was gone and would stay away forever._

 _"Hey, what was that for?" The guy didn't seem to know if he should be angry or just plain surprised. The man with the light hair and metal clip looked back to the other, dread filling his chest. He knew it wouldn't be that easy… Could he have really stopped it by grabbing it away?_

 _"I'm sorry." The man nearly whispered, his eyes seemed to be darkening and his face fixing back into a neutral expression. Inside, he was collapsing, crumbling._

 _After all these years, he had found his hope only for it to be taken before he had even arrived._

-/-

When Gilbert snapped back to reality he felt the impact of the stone hitting his hand. The images - memories - that had flit through his vision like an old reel of footage, becoming smoother and steadier as it played on had lasted less than a split second. Gilbert was stunned. What was that? Were those really memories? Had that really happened?

What shocked him more than anything was the appearance of Matthias Kohler in the vision. Matthias had used to be a student at his school… a kid in his town that had disappeared two years earlier. Why would he have had a vision like that? Why had he seen anything at all?

What did Matthias have to do with this place? Who's memories had that been?

He stared down at the stone. He remembered the fear that had coursed through the man in that memory - as if this rock were the most frightening object in the world. His own chest was starting to swirl in fear from the sight. There wasn't a particular reason and of course the awesome him wasn't scared of some little stone! After what he had just seen, though… he couldn't help but feel a bit restless looking at the stone.

With a clatter sounding in his ears, Gilbert realized he had dropped the rock. It had bounced off of the stone fountain and onto the grass beside it. He took a step back. Then another. Soon he had turned and started to quickly walk away.

He left behind that stone. He left it and never saw it again.

Gilbert went straight home, not realizing as he went through the gate or took dull but purposeful steps down the hill or passed house after uniformly boring house. By the time Gilbert had arrived home, though, he was sweating.

He touched his forehead, wondering when that had happened. He hadn't run at all on his way there. He had been utmostly desperate to get away from the manor and get away from Bell Avenue, but Gilbert hadn't run. His pace had been a quick, purposeful walk the whole way, never minding his steps and almost like he was a robot on autocontrol. He had never run, though, so why was he sweating?

Actually, no. He recalled. As he had gone he had remembered that his pace _had_ changed. It had begun to slow as he was making his way down the road leading to town. By the time he had arrived to his own street he had been limping with the effort of a light-headed person who hadn't eaten all day. He had been shuffling along, ready to collapse from the sheer exhaustion of it. Had he really been so out of it to not realize how terribly tired he was?

As he shut the front door to his house behind him he realized also that his palms were clammy and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. His legs felt like gelatin and his breath was labored.

No one was home. His grandfather was at work and his brother was probably at the library or something equally nerdy. There was no one to witness as Gilbert collapsed on the floor, unable to sustain his own weight any longer. When his vision blurred, he knew he would be face down on that floor for some time.

Then, he drifted into darkness.

-/-

"It's odd. Not like a normal sickness." The hushed voice of someone familiar to Gilbert lulled through his groggy mind. He no longer felt the hard floor beneath him but the softness of a bed - his own bed. Wait, why would he be on the floor anyway?

"Not a normal sickness? Do you mean like cancer or AIDS or something?" Another familiar voice asked and the dull smack of someone getting lightly hit over the head sounded through the room.

"No, Antonio. I mean _not normal_." The emphasis put on the last two words made Gilbert start to open his eyes. What was Francis going on about?

"Ooohhh." Antonio responded, Gilbert could now see how his eyes widened in understanding.

Francis shook his head. "You are so oblivious at times, _mon ami_." Was it Gilbert's imagination or did something cross over Antonio's face just then. A sadness. An age-old pain in those normally bright and carefree eyes. Then his Spanish friend looked over and the expression was gone, seeing him awake.

"Gil, you're awake!" He exclaimed and Francis turned in surprise.

"Oh, Gilbert, we were so worried! We got here and you know what we found? You, lying on the floor, right there in the hallway! I thought we would have to call 911!"

Now, this was the part in which Gilbert would usually jump up, good as new, and tell his friends off for even thinking the awesome him couldn't handle a fever or whatever this could have been. Instead, Gilbert made to lift his head to merely have a better look around and it exploded in pain. A headache? Was this what people called a migraine? If so, migraines sucked! Gripping his head, Gilbert moaned and fell back onto his pillows.

"Does your head hurt?" Antonio asked, concern lacing his voice. Gilbert really wanted to scream ' _No shit!_ ' but couldn't seem to work past the gonging of cymbals in his head. "Do you think he got a concussion when he fell?"

Francis ignored the question and placed a hand on his forehead. It hurt. Everything hurt. The inside of his head felt like a war zone. Was it the sound of the bombs causing the pain or the shrill flight of the biplanes passing by? After a moment Francis retreated his hand and stepped away. "Antonio, watch over him." Gilbert has never seen him act so serious or so straightforward for that matter. Without another word, Francis was gone.

Gilbert writhed in agony with no words from Antonio to distract him. To be honest, he was glad. Sound would have made it worse. It hurt when he had his eyes open, blinded by the natural light streaming through the blinds of his window. It even hurt when his eyes were squeezed tight, causing a constant pounding in his head. It hurt to listen or to speak or to move or to think. _Damn, mind. Stop thinking things!_

Gilbert was relieved, though he wasn't sure why, when Francis returned quickly. He approached Antonio. "Antonio dear, would you get something to mask the flavor? Something strong." He was back to his normal way of talking but he sounded more distracted than usual. When Antonio came back brandishing a bottle of beer Francis gave him a look.

"What? It's strong and don't tell me he doesn't already drink the stuff." Antonio defended himself. Gilbert had to agree. Beer was no foreign substance to him despite being technically a minor.

Francis poured some of the beer into a tall plastic cup then mixed something else into it as well before shoving it into Gilbert's hands. "Drink up. The whole thing." Gilbert must have given him some sort of ' _Are you crazy_ ' type look because Francis rolled his eyes. "Oh, it's nothing bad. Do you want that headache to go away or not?" That was enough to convince Gilbert and he gulped the whole thing down in one go. Francis took the cup away and turned back to Gilbert's desk where he had set up his own little brewery with the still mostly full bottle of beer and some sort of weird vial that he must have brought from home. Was that some sort of medicine he had mixed with it?

Gilbert felt tired again. Not the same overbearing exhaustion as when he had passed out in the hall but a steady drifting, like it was the middle of the night and he had finally decided to go to bed. He looked over at his friends again as his eyes drooped.

Francis picked up the vial and just as he was about to put it away in a little pouch he had brought, Gilbert spotted it and squinted. The vial was glowing. There was no doubt that the orange liquid inside was glowing if not a little dimly.

Gilbert didn't have much time to wonder about this though, as the next thing he knew he was asleep.

-/-

Gilbert spent the next few days like this, drifting in and out of consciousness. He didn't eat much and he certainly didn't get anymore beer like his friends had nicely given him that first day. He stayed in bed, suffering under the care of his grandfather and brother. His grandfather told him to man up. His brother told him to rest and get well responsibly. Neither sounded particularly appealing to Gilbert. On the one hand, Gilbert didn't enjoy being responsible. On the other, the thought of 'manning up' and leaving the bed made Gilbert want to throw up and that was one thing the sickness had not inflicted upon him… yet.

On the upside to this whole endeavor, he got to miss school for three whole days. The downside, he didn't get to visit Matthew for this same length of time and Gilbert was dying to go back. When he had brought his Walkman the first time he had known that he wanted to come back with more cassettes for the shy ghost to choose from. The thought of seeing Matthew again brought a smile to his lips. It then soured as he thought of the gardens he would need to pass to get there. Those gardens left a bad taste in his mouth and he would much rather never see them again. Especially that fountain where he had left that stone.

He was spooked by that small rock and for good reason. Of course, nothing like that was going to stop him from reaching the manor again! He was too awesome for that! And after those three days of hiding from the world and playing dead in his bed, he didn't let his discomfort of that garden or anything else stop him from arriving back at the front door to the manor that lay on Bell Avenue. The door was shut and the house was silent. The door was locked…

But that wasn't possible. Hadn't Gilbert and his friends broken that lock a week ago?

So Gilbert began to knock.

* * *

 _Hey! I'm back it seems? Yeah, so it was kind of a long time, but here's the fourth chapter! The fifth one's in the works. I've got other stuff I'm currently working on but hopefully the fifth shall be out soon! Hope you guys still like it and I'm sorry for the wait. Thank you to everyone who reads, follows, favorites, and reviews! You da bomb! ...too much? Sorry. Until next time!_


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a few days since Gilbert had last visited. The door was still open, but, luckily, no humans had taken notice... and none of the other residents of the house seemed particularly bothered by it. A lot more bugs made their appearances in the large manor, but Alfred and Matthew were used to bugs and mice and wild creatures. They found their ways into the old house even _without_ the front door being open. This was just an easier and more noticeable way.

Matthew was too distracted to pay much attention to the increased residency of the house, though Alfred took delight in more things to soothe his pent-up energy. Matthew kept thinking about the boy with the red eyes. Gilbert would be back, right? He had come back last time, but it had been days now. Matthew was beginning to have second thoughts.

The quiet ghost had never realized how utterly boring life after death could be. You float around from day-to-day in an empty house with nothing to do. He was beginning to understand how his brother had felt all of those years while he himself had been buried in volume after volume of books he found scattered throughout the manor. The books no longer held as much interest to him... Matthew just wanted to see Gilbert again and talk to him and listen to the odd sounding music he brought with him in that brick-like device.

Most days Matthew found himself sitting at the threshold of the front door. He told his brother - and himself, if he was honest - that he was observing the view. It wasn't a lie... Matthew loved to see the outdoors and he desperately wished he could just go out there, escape his blasted damnation because that was what it was... Matthew didn't know why his brother was forced to suffer here too, but this was Matthew's punishment for what he had done, he was sure of it.

Matthew let his eyes snap back into focus and disband his train of thought. He was on the look-out for a certain white-haired person as he squinted across the yard. The gardens were big, he could barely see the road from there, but if he looked hard enough he knew he would be able to see someone walking up Bell Avenue. But there was no one. Not a single soul. It wasn't as if this was any different from any other day, but... Matthew had really hoped Gilbert would be there by now.

Matthew stood up. He couldn't sit there all day and stare. Sure, he had the rest of his afterlife to do anything he wanted in the lonesome house, but, for the first time in years, Matthew felt restless. Was this sparking energy in his ghostly form the same as the one that coursed through his brother? Matthew wanted to do something. _Anything_. The lack of activity was killing him.

He thought about going to see what Alfred was doing, but decided against it. He was most likely messing with bugs or rats or just sleeping in a corner of a room. There was no need to disturb him and Matthew didn't want to mess with any of the critters of the house anyway. Instead, Matthew walked down the halls. Most of the rooms were shut, though it would have been easy enough to just phase through the doors. Matthew just looked at the aging wallpaper, the dusty tables, the crooked picture frames with scenes of the countryside. He stood in front of a portrait of the Jones family for a minute. There were three people in the painting: A mother, a father, and, in front of them, a young boy. Matthew remembered when they had been that young; those were the years that Alfred had started to really wish to go outside, having already explored the whole insides of the manor. That restlessness had only grown from there.

Matthew noted how stern his parents looked in the photo. It made sense, Alfred's parents had normally seemed a bit stern. What the painting didn't portray, though, were the moments of worry that often crossed Alfred's mother's face or understanding and knowledge Matthew had seen once or twice on Alfred's father... His father. Matthew had never received a look like that from Mr. Jones. Matthew had never known he'd had a father.

He remembered the day Alfred had found out. Those were the days they were still staying in the attic.

-/-

 _The quiet ghost didn't do much. He hid behind boxes and dusty furniture on most days. Alfred on the other hand could wander around the manor undetected. He had figured out how to use his ghostly powers and was really good at it. This gave him the advantage of getting out of the attic they hid in these days._

 _Matthew didn't like being dead. It scared him. The prospect of not being able to see or talk to his mother again and not being able to tell her that he was okay and she could stop worrying... he knew she was worrying. Alfred tried to hide it when he told him news from downstairs but Alfred had never been a good liar. Matthew knew his friend and he knew his mother._

 _Another thing that scared him about being dead: that his mother_ would _somehow talk to him. He was always on edge that someone would find their hiding place because, while Al was an expert at it, Matthew had no idea how to control his powers. Alfred told him he just needed to practice and he would get it in no time... Matthew hoped he was right. He couldn't live for much longer hiding behind boxes in the muggy attic._

 _Being a ghost was weird and, oddly enough, it was hard work. More people came into the attic then Matthew had ever thought when he was alive and he was forced to duck around to avoid being seen. Al had told him that a rumor had started to go around the staff that the attic was haunted. Those rumors were kept carefully away from the family of the house and Matthew's mother though. Rumors of that nature after such a recent loss would not have been taken kindly._

 _Matthew was attempting to control his solid form enough to create little circles in the dust on the floor when Alfred barreled back up the stairs to the attic. Immediately, Matthew turned to scold the young man, technically the elder of him by a year. When they had been alive Matthew had always scolded the other by merely pointing things out to him. Now that they were dead and Matthew wasn't under threat of losing his or his mother's jobs he often openly told Alfred just what he thought. Admittedly, many times the other did not seem to hear, but it was a lot easier on Matthew's part to not have to disguise when the other was being a moron._

 _"Alfred, someone's going to hear you!" Matthew popped up from behind his box to see that the other's eyes were wide and his expression shocked. He didn't seem to hear Matthew's statement, as usual, but Matthew thought nothing of it when he saw Alfred's expression. "What's the matter? Did someone see you?"_

 _"No, no." Alfred shook his head multiple times, his chest puffing up and down despite the fact the ghost no longer needed to breath. "I just heard - oh my god - you won't believe-"_

 _"Al, slow down. You're not making any..." Matthew trailed off as Alfred's face changed to one mixed between shock and confusion. He sunk down onto one of the boxes and stared at the floor, placing his hands on either side of his face and resting his elbows on his knees. "...sense..." Matthew finished quietly._

 _Alfred finally looked up. "We're brothers, Mattie."_

 _This time the confusion crossed the quieter ghost's face. "What?" Had he heard Alfred right? People had always said they looked a lot alike but... he couldn't be serious... no way._

 _"I heard my dad and your mom talking... they were talking about you. Your mom was upset-" Alfred stopped, as if he had said something wrong. "She said that my father was... your father too."_

 _Matthew stared for a minute. Alfred wasn't making any sense. How could that have been possible? Him and his mom hadn't started working there until he was three. As far as Matthew knew, his mom hadn't known the Jones' earlier than that. Matthew noticed he had started shaking his head when Alfred spoke up again._

 _"It's true. Your mom, well, she was mad. She was wondering if he was upset that you were gone..."_

 _By this time, though, Matthew had stopped listening. He slunk back to his corner, ears deaf to any more noise coming out of Alfred's mouth. It was too much, his emotions were jacked enough being newly deceased but... this just topped it all off. He felt weighed down; why did a ghost have to have so many emotions?_

 _Matthew was silent for days. It took a while, but eventually he got used to calling Alfred his brother. To be honest, it was one of the strangest transitions of his life, stranger than going from alive to being dead. At least then it had been quick. Matthew never came across anything else to back what Alfred had said, but, maybe some part of him didn't want to find more evidence because, what if it wasn't true? Matthew needed someone to help him get through these years and Alfred did too; why couldn't they be brothers?_

 _So Matthew accepted it. He knew Alfred must have been having a lot harder time with it than he, considering his parents had presumably been happy together... so Matthew simply and easily accepted it. Someone had to look out for Alfred anyway, and what better person than his brother?_

-/-

Matthew shook his head to clear his thoughts. No, he didn't need to remember those days. They hurt too much to think about. So much had happened then from the time the two boys had died to all the commotion that had happened afterwards... those years Matthew had still known how his mother was doing and Alfred knew about his own family. Then they had moved away, abandoning the house and the two ghosts with it. It wasn't their fault, they had never known that the two boys still rested in the house, but it still hurt.

How was his mother now? It had been years. Was she... dead? The thought was always too much for Matthew to bare. He couldn't think about it for too long, He couldn't bring himself to do the math to see what age his mother would be today. Eventually Matthew had stopped keeping up with the years to protect himself from the truth. What year was it in the outside world? If Gilbert ever came back Matthew would ask him. He couldn't keep hiding.

Matthew knew he wouldn't do it, though. He was still too scared to know the truth. He didn't _want_ to know.

Matthew turned away from the portrait and walked further up the hallway. The very last door was open... "I don't remember any of these doors being open." Matthew whispered to himself and took a tentative step inside.

The room looked like half of the rooms in the house that still had furniture. Alfred's family hadn't brought all of their furniture for some reason so their were still so many things left in the manor. This house didn't seem touched from when there had still been people living there aside from the sheets thrown over the wardrobe and wooden desk and bed frame. Looking closer, Matthew saw that the bed frame still held a mattress even.

Matthew did a circle around the room, taking in the dust particles that danced in the light from the curtainless window and the even layer of dust on the floor left undisturbed by his nonexistent footprints. He rested his hand on the knob of the bed post at the end of the bed and stared at the desk beside the bed. That was funny, the desk wasn't flat as the desk throughout the house always seemed to be. The furniture in guest rooms were always identical, yet this desk seemed to sport a large box-like thing laying ontop of it.

Matthew approached the desk. He couldn't see what the box was because the sheet atop the desk covered it as well. If only Matthew could control his physical form long enough to move the sheet. He wasn't getting Alfred for this - he couldn't - he wanted to do this on his own. He could do things without Alfred's help!

Matthew placed his hands on top of the sheet only for them to slip through. "Damn it!" He cursed in a whisper. Matthew never raised his voice and, in the empty house, he was even quieter than when he was alive. The house was so still and it was like Matthew didn't want to disturb any spirits that rested there. Too late. Him and Alfred were the spirits of the house and they had never laid dormant there.

There were also the creatures they had begun to see creeping around in the shadows, but Matthew didn't want to think of them. A shiver ran up the quiet ghost's back and he looked behind himself at the door just to make sure there was no one else there.

There wasn't.

Matthew turned back to his task only to realize something odd he hadn't noticed before. His hand was laying solidly on top of the box under the thin white sheet that lay over it. He had passed right through the sheet only to stop on the box below it.

Matthew gasped. "What? How?" He was completely lost. This had never happened before. Usually Matthew had to concentrate with all his might to be able to touch anything and, even then, it was only a momentary brush of the fingers before he passed through again. That's why he always got Alfred to pull out his books for him and why he only read them when they were sitting on tables and why at only his most strongest moments he could bare to flip the page thin pages like the whisper of the wind.

This wasn't the only off thing about the situation, though. Suppose he had finally been able to control his powers enough to keep his solid form; there was still one last crucial detail that made not any sort of sense in this all. If he was maintaining a solid form in order to touch the box, why was he not able to touch the sheet that lay above it too?

All of these thoughts passed through Matthew's head in a moment and he immediately snatched his hand away, passing through the sheet again in his retreat. Clutching his hand close to him, he stood, frozen, looking at the sheet and, in turn, the box below it. "That's... impossible."

Matthew had said these words many times throughout the years - when he and Alfred had come back as ghostly beings, the many nights Matthew had contemplated the fact that Alfred's father was his own as well, even the day previous when he had been, once again, thought of how that creature had attacked him and made him felt pain, something he had long forgotten the feeling of because it was what _humans_ experienced.

Impossible. It was something that always liked to change its definition to Matthew. Matthew tried to make sense of his situation, to categorize what made sense in the world he now lived and separate possibilities from impossibilities. Was it safer to just call things that didn't make sense 'improbable' now? It seemed that nothing was out of the question anymore to what Matthew thought he knew.

Slowly and almost without thinking, Matthew stretched his hand out again. Would it do it again? Maybe he had been imagining things. It really was impossible to Matthew's definition to be able to do such a thing. Not even Alfred who seemed to be an expert in controlling his powers had ever done such a thing. Once one was holding a solid form they had to touch things like a human would. They couldn't pass through one thing and be able to touch another on the other side.

What if he had only solidified his hand after he had passed through the sheet? Different parts of the body could be maintained without others. It saved energy, Alfred said. But Matthew couldn't have been able to do that! It had taken Alfred at least fifteen years to figure out how to do that!

Matthew looked at the outline of his hand beneath the sheet, resting on top of the box. None of it made sense. How was he doing this?

Matthew reached out another hand and placed both hands on either sides of the box. Carefully, he lifted the box, somehow not surprised when the box came up, dragging the sheet. Matthew moved the box out from under the sheet which fell to the floor and placed it on the desk again.

It was about as wide as a the chair sitting at the desk. It's wood was dark brown and it had leather straps across its top that fastened the chest closed. It was simple and it looked like it could hold anything.

The fastens came undone easily and the hinges creaked as Matthew pulled its top open. Inside the box was deep enough to hold large book, spine up, and one of the items was just that. Its spine was cracked and the black leather that bound it looked worn. There were symbols that ran across the bind in swirling silver font and, as Matthew ran his hand along it, it seemed that it too was solid to him.

In fact, everything in the chest was solid to the quiet ghost. The little vials with mysterious fluids and herbs, the brown leather pouch that clinked when Matthew touched it, a long and battered looking feather, an odd-looking whistle that seemed to be hand-carved from a delicate wood - they were all easily accessible to Matthew who hadn't gotten the chance to touch anything human in many many years.

What caught the quiet ghost's eye the most, though, was a vial in the corner of the chest. It was different from any of the other vials that stood against each other on the other side of the box. Not only was its shape different, looking much more ornate than the other simple bottles in what seemed to be a specially hand-spun glass of green in a way that made it look more like a pretty perfume bottle, but its contents were even stranger than the alien substances in the others.

This one looked as if it had bottled light itself. Through the dark green tint of the glass Matthew saw a pure light glowing, not blindingly but not softly either. It did not look securely locked in though. Instead of the normal cork or even tied fabric to seal its contents like the many others, a lid sat in the mouth of the bottle, the kind used exactly for a delicate perfume bottle like the one his mother used to have on her vanity. One merely had to lift it with barely an effort, for there was no seal to the lid.

How could someone secure something undoubtedly precious in such a precarious way? Why take the care of fixing it into such an elaborate piece of artwork when it could easily be tipped or spilled or freed with one simple wrong move?

Matthew hadn't even realized he had picked the bottle up until he was looking at it in his hands, one holding it tightly and the other reaching for the bottle's top. He froze. "You can't open this. You don't know what it is." He told himself, yet he yearned to let his hand reach out and just grab the top and pull it free.

"Hey, Mattie! Where'd you go, man?" Another voice broke him of his trance and he quickly placed the bottle back in its place and shut the chest. For some reason he didn't want Alfred to see it. There was something about the old box that gave Matthew an odd feeling.

So Matthew quickly left the room, not even bothering with the sheet that had fallen to the floor. He knew that with all of his might he would not be able to lift it back over the desk. As Matthew approached the end of the hall he finally caught sight of Alfred who, in turn, also saw him.

"Hey, man! Where you been? I've been looking everywhere for you!" Alfred zoomed toward his brother at an impossible speed and stopped in front of the other ghost.

"Oh, just exploring the manor." Matthew shrugged. It was the truth after all. "You know, same old same old."

"Alright, bro; let's go do something fun then! And I've got the perfect idea!" His brother took him by the hand and started to lead him away.

"Ugh. But I don't want to mess with the rodents, Alfred."

"Aw, come on. It's more fun with another person!" And so, whether Matthew wanted to or not, Alfred dragged him away to a game of chasing around rats. The same as any other day, really.

-/-

That night they appeared again. They liked to show up when it was truly dark outside, hence, without working lights within the house, the entire manor was encased in darkness. Matthew and Alfred liked to shut themselves in the study during those hours. If there was light, Alfred would get down a book for Matthew to read aloud, but at that time of night there was never any.

So the brothers spent their forcibly conscious hours occasionally chattering but more often listening to the bare silence. Matthew lay in the middle of the floor with the scratchy old carpet beneath him. Alfred, though able to maintain his form long enough to take the couch, sat beside him, leaning against one of the shelves that lined the room.

It was storming that night and occasionally lightning flashed through the room, illuminating the musty dark wooden desk and stiff cushioned chairs that faced it. The thunder sounded through the normally reliably silent room and Matthew grabbed the sides of his arms. He wasn't afraid of thunder or lightning or storms. It was what was lurking through the house that spooked him.

He didn't know how many were there. He knew of at least two but there could have been more. They got more confident as night drew on, roaming throughout the house more openly and snarling if they sensed movement around them. That was why Matthew and Alfred hid. They didn't know what these creatures could do, especially now that they knew they could attack them.

The past few nights had been a new level of frightening though. They had been hearing the creatures sniffing outside the door more and more often and once Matthew could have sworn he heard the snouts of three beings beyond the room's entry.

It wasn't as real when they were outside their secured room, though. It was impossible to tell if they had the ability to open the door or if they were even looking for them at all. Alfred reassured him that they were safe in there, but Matthew didn't know whether to believe him or not.

Somehow Alfred managed to fall asleep. It baffled Matthew how easily he could do it. It still wasn't as easily as when he had still been living, but Alfred got to sleep a lot easier than Matthew, which had been what he had been trying to do all night.

Matthew watched Alfred leaning against that shelf, head lolled against his chest and in the most uncomfortable sleeping position Matthew had ever seen. If they had still been human, he expected Alfred would have had serious back pains the next morning.

He himself felt like he was aching all over, his body still remembering the attack from days prior and the mere memory smarting his shoulder where the claws had dug into his transparent form. He shifted his position on the floor to try to get the phantom pains to disappear only to freeze when another sound rang in his ears.

Matthew used to feed a dog that came around the manor when he was little. Old bread or slightly rotting bits of vegetables and sometimes even food he secretly saved from his own plate -things people wouldn't notice were missing- he would sneak out to the back when he heard the sniffling of the dog at the door.

That was what it sounded like then. Matthew used to love that sound, it had been his cue that he could sneak away from his chores for a little while and he could spend perhaps twenty minutes outside petting behind this dog's ears and breathing in fresh, dust-free air. The manor had always been full of dust, even when people had still lived in it, and Matthew had loved the excuse to get away.

The sound now, though, only proved to send a shiver down his spine and fear spiraling throughout his body. He sat up to watch the door, gripping his arms tighter around him. There was no need to wake up his brother, he told himself. It'll go away just as soon as it had come. Just like before.

His reassurances did no good when he began hearing scratches on the door, splintering wood under very physical claws that were still exceedingly capable of tearing his very non-physical form into little ghost shreds.

Finally, Matthew couldn't take it any longer and leaned over to shake his brother. "Alfred! Alfred, it's back and I think it might get in." He whispered urgently. Alfred popped up, sounding slightly alarmed.

"What?"

More scratching sounded at the door and Matthew assumed Alfred now understood. They both sat in silence as the sniffling resumed. It sounded like another had joined in the hall.

"Come on." Alfred said beside him, his voice cracking between a whisper and a low murmur. He had stood and was pulling Matthew up as well.

"What are you doing?" Matthew asked as he let his brother lead him to the back of the room.

"We're hiding behind the desk."

"Wh- What? Do you think it could actually get in?" Matthew sputtered as he felt himself pass right through the desk they were supposed to be hiding behind. _That makes me feel safe_ , he thought sarcastically. He just passed through their highly fortified desk that was supposed to protect them.

Nevertheless, they crouched beneath it as if in some tiny bunker. It reminded Matthew of the one time Alfred had convinced him to play hooky one day of his chores and build a blanket fort with him. They were a lot bigger now, though, so it wasn't as comfortable as he remembered, nor as fun considering they were hiding from a possible second death. Matthew still couldn't see a thing until a flash of lightning shone across the room. Unexpectedly, the sniffling and scratching stopped.

They waited and waited until finally Matthew spoke up - stupidly, stupidly spoke up. "Do you think they're gone?"

Suddenly, the door broke into pieces, a hole splintering in the dead center of it and the creatures slowly stalking in. They both had frozen, holding in their unnecessary breaths out of habit. The creatures sniffed about the room, in the corners and across the shelves. Matthew almost laughed when one of them sneezed from the dust in the room, but the situation was too grave for it to be funny for too long.

The sniffing came closer until there were two nuzzles poking under the desk, then a claw slide under -no, not a claw, a hand.

Suddenly, the desk was pushed against the wall, knocking Alfred back but passing right through Matthew. Matthew unconsciously turned invisible which didn't shield him from a single being in that room. He was out in the open and his brother was momentarily pinned behind the desk before Alfred remembered he was actually an intangible being and phased right through.

The three creatures were already upon Matthew, though. Three? His mind had enough time to wonder, When did that third one get there? One chomped on his leg and another tackled his torso as he screamed and fell hard against the floor. They were dragging him and his back was rubbing against the scratchy roll out carpet on the floor. His vision was blocked by whichever creature had tackled him and a strange sensation lit in his nose. He could smell it. But he couldn't smell. He hadn't been able to since he had been human. He had forgotten what the sensation was like, but he knew it must have been. What else could it possibly be?

What was it about these creatures? They were able to touch him, to cause him pain. He was able to smell them. They elicited fear in him, something he shouldn't have been able to feel as a dead being. They were able… to make him faint.

Which was exactly what was happening that moment. The world was becoming dark - darker than merely his obstructed vision. It was all becoming numb to him and unreal.

Then, all there was was darkness.

-/-

Matthew came to as light shone through the large window of the study. The sun hurt his eyes and he had a pounding headache as he sat up from where he was sprawled on the floor. Matthew normally slept on the floor, but something was odd about this time around. For one, that he had actually managed to fall asleep for once. For another….

"Alfred?" Matthew called, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the sight before him. The desk was hurled against the wall, piles of books had fallen from the shelves, chairs were strewn to the sides of the room in various positions, not a single one standing up right. And there, in the middle of the room was a path of shredded carpet leading to where he himself sat toward the front of the rooms almost to the splintering doorway with an even larger hole than there had been the previous night. "Al?" Matthew called again, panic rising in his voice at the lack of response from his first attempt.

When there was still silence Matthew stood, immediately feeling dizzy and falling back down. "What is going on?" He whispered to himself, just now noticing all the renewed senses that filtered through his body. He waited a moment until he attempted to stand again.

When this time was successful, Matthew carefully made his way around the room on foot, still not feeling well enough to try floating. This was all very new to him so he had no idea how much effort it would take to manage what used to be a simple task.

First, he checked the desk. Alfred wasn't under it or behind it and neither was he anywhere else in the room. Matthew slowly made his way out of the study, limping along the corridors on his still injured leg that glowed like his shoulder had just a week ago. The house wasn't safe, Matthew was sure of it, but he had to find his brother. There was no way he would fail to save Alfred again.

But as far as he searched he could not find him nor any of the creatures he assumed had taken him. With only two rooms left in the manor to search Matthew couldn't take the pain any longer and sat on one of the small lounge chairs against the wall in one of the hallways. He had searched the enormous house, yet that still was not enough. There was still hope, though. There were still those last two rooms.

Matthew stood, wobbling on his unsteady leg slightly until he forced his way forward. In the first room he checked the closet, he stood over the bare brass bed and, looking through the rusted springs and rails, saw nothing underneath. There was nowhere else in that room to search.

The next room was shut, so Matthew used evermore of his energy to pass through the door, a power he hadn't even realized was a blessing when he couldn't control the physicality of his hand to turn the knob. When he saw the bareness of the room he collapsed, unable to bear standing any longer. There was nowhere to look in that room -nowhere his brother could have been there and nowhere else for Matthew to gladly overexert his energy to keep going to. His brother, the creatures, they had all disappeared.

Matthew was alone in the manor. Alfred was gone and, once again, he couldn't help thinking that it was all his fault.

* * *

 _I got it out in a week! Yay! Thank you all as always to every last one of you! And thank you to those of you who take your time to leave a review! You all rock! Hope you liked the chapter! Toodaloo!_


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